


sure as the sunrise

by redledgers



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Magic, Whitestone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: A moment of peace for Cassandra in her own world.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinderfell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/gifts).



> i swear this was supposed to be Fluff.

The scent of dew wet grass fills her completely as she steps out of the confines of stone walls and into the open expanse of the land she presides over. _Rules_ is the wrong word; she was never meant to take charge with an iron fist, never meant to rise to this level in her own home. But here on crisp mornings as the sun just rises over the Alabaster Sierras, she could be exactly who she wanted to be.

Energy crackles at her fingertips, buzzing until it surrounds her, and she feels alive. A thing that had once kept her prisoner and destroyed her life is now a beacon of hope, a comfort she discovered. _What can I do to help?_ she had asked, because these new people seemed much more powerful than her. _What else can I do for my people?_ she thinks to herself. And so she finds books in the library, some recently used, others gathering dust. She reads when she can and when she figures it out, she comes to the only place she can truly be alone and _tries._

Magic springs from her fingertips as easily as if it were planted there, waiting to sprout tendrils of vines and flowers that will stand tall in the frigid winters. Lightning sparks and cracks around her as she wields the smallest bit of power, dispelling into the air with an acrid scent. It’s on this day she feels a presence at the outskirts of the space, lingering but not with any ill intentions. Cassandra knows about ill intentions and the cotton filled mouth that comes with speaking of it. She knows a great deal too about sensing presences, creeping around hallways once filled with childhood joy but now covered in soot and blood. Still, she does not let the presence deter her as she moves through what she knows, the somatic gestures flowing as smoothly to her as fencing. A fireball arcs in the sky, shooting upward as if to rejoin the sun, and when it bursts far above her, she feels the presence move closer.

“Take a walk with me?” Allura says, reaching her hand toward Cassandra. When she takes it, she feels soft warm skin and thinks that perhaps she can learn to have a mother again. It’s a blessed moment to spend with Allura in the break between her post at the barrier. But the woman doesn’t ask the questions she expects. _How long? Where did you learn?_ Instead, she points somewhere in the distant southwest, past the mountaintops, past forests and rivers expanding all throughout Tal’Dorei. “Once the pinnacle of my power was in Emon.” The phrase _before the dragons came_ hangs in the air, heavy and full between them, struggling to the surface but never quite making it. “A lot of knowledge was lost, but perhaps there are other copies in other libraries.”

Cassandra had heard stories of Emon from the refugees, but not many were concerned with the Lyceum. She knew about the games children played, the livelihoods of their parents, the friendly faces that were lost in the attack. “Have you found any of note in the Whitestone collection?” What hadn’t been destroyed or thrifted away still took up residence on the many shelves. 

“I would have asked you the same question, but I admit I haven’t had much time to peruse the library. When this is all over…” Allura fades, almost faltering, and Cassandra knows this look well. It’s a rabbit hole, a path down which her regrets loom, where her mistakes lie in wait.

She squeezes the other woman’s hand. “When this is all over, will you teach me more?” Truthfully, she might have asked Pike the same question, but she doubted her brother’s friends would settle long enough, and Pike was busy as it was. They were all busy. (If she were still a Briarwood she would have learned the dark arts Delilah let devour her life.)

Their walk is aimless and roving, a path with no end and no purpose. Allura smiles at her. “I will, but you must promise me one thing.” She pauses for a span of seconds before continuing, not bothering to wait for affirmation or any other acknowledgement. “I ask only that you bring your talents to the aid of your people, whatever it is you choose to focus in.”

Her quiet magic had become a thing of solace over the past months, a slowly growing tree not quite strong enough yet to bear the weight of a kingdom. But then, neither was she. Cassandra looks over the regrowth, the city and the castle rising above the trees, and she knows she was always meant to. “Of course.” 

Conversation turns then to a series of things many might consider frivolous, but it helps to distract from what they’re going back to. Cassandra knows the library well enough that she promises to give Allura any books she might find interesting should she have any time to page through them. There’s a series of ribbing jokes on Whitestone’s lackluster cuisine and unburdened anecdotes from past lives.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, they find themselves heading back toward the castle, and Cassandra feels at peace. There is work to be done in Whitestone, but perhaps it will bring her a family the way Percy has found his own.


End file.
